I've Got a Hammer And a Heart of Glass
by evclgsb
Summary: Naomi doesn’t tell Emily that sometimes when Emily has to stay home for a night of Fitch family fun, she invites Cook over, or goes over to Cook’s, or just sees Cook. Whatever. It's no big deal


**Title:** (I've Got a Hammer) And a Heart of Glass  
**Character/Pairings:** Cook/Naomi (Noami/Emily, Naomi/Sophia)  
**Summary:** _Naomi doesn't tell Emily that sometimes when Emily has to stay home for a night of Fitch family fun, she invites Cook over, or goes over to Cook's, or just sees Cook. Whatever. It's no big deal_  
**Rating:** R (language)  
**Word Count:** 3,000  
**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Title comes from John Mayer's "War of My Life".

Naomi doesn't tell Emily that sometimes when Emily has to stay home for a night of Fitch family fun (Emily says _It's Fitchin_ in this cute, annoyed way, so Naomi just knows the phrase was coined by Katie) she invites Cook over, or goes over to Cook's, or just sees Cook.

Whatever. It's no big deal.

They usually just sit somewhere (her couch, on his bed, on the floor) and smoke cigarettes- Cook used to smoke weed, until one day she couldn't help scrunching up her nose because the smell was so strong, sweet, fragrant. He asked what the fuck she was making that face for, and she told him, and he stopped. Then, the next time she was over at his house, legs spread out in front of her, lighting his cigarette, she breathed in the heavy scent of cologne sprayed around the room and all over him, mixing with the odor of marijuana. She didn't say anything about how that was about a million times worse. Because it was still kind of nice of him (to care)- talking about the cool thing JJ did the other day, how Emily attempted to make flan (_It's_ Mexican, _Naomi_), how much it sucks that Effy's disappeared off the face of the earth. And sometimes they talk about nothing at all.

Her head lolls on his shoulder and she closes her eyes, trying to feel like the nothing they're talking about. His thigh is pressed warmly next to hers. Naomi feels safe because she knows him better than anyone else (probably) and they're equally fucked up.

Which is freeing. It's the only time she thinks she understands the definition of the word freedom.

The dictionary got it wrong.

--

The idea of going to Mexico with Emily is really fun to laugh about and plan when they're lying in bed, sticky with sweat and the smell of sex lingering on the sheets and in the air. But as the idea becomes less of an idea and more of a concrete thing, it also becomes scary, daunting. The day Emily arrives at Naomi's house with books and brochures from a travel agent, Naomi listens intently and nods and smiles at the appropriate times, but her insides feel like they're being taken for a spin in a concrete mixer and she can hardly keep down the Garibaldi biscuits she ate a few hours prior. She tries to speak up, say they could always go to university, but the minute Emily stops talking and looks at her closely, Naomi's throat goes dry and scratchy; Emily's face is alight with anticipation and joy. Naomi can't ruin that. She _can't_.

So she offers Emily a drink, kisses her hard and pushes the brochures and books off the table (accidentally – maybe) as she finishes the bottle of wine and grips Emily's wrist tightly, rubbing her thumb over the blue veins she can see under the pale skin. Naomi rubs lines over the veins (back and forth, back and forth) until her vision is blurry with drunkenness and she can't clearly see the way Emily's watching her, tracing until Emily drags her to bed, spooning her and holding her down as she tries to float away.

(It's nicer than Naomi would have thought, and that _really_ terrifies her.)

--

Cook tells her it's nice of Emily to fucking give a shit, to actually want a future. Naomi responds that the world could end tomorrow and it wouldn't even matter (a sliver of her heart hopes it will). But Cook shakes his head, flicking the end of the cigarette on to the grass outside her house. Their breathing doesn't synchronize as she watches the bud of his cigarette burn out slowly, glowing red and turning to dust. Cook says, "If the world is fucking going to explode tomorrow, you should be bloody excited," but Naomi ignores him, grabbing the bud of the cigarette and squashing it against the vibrant grass. She knows what he means- she should be excited that Emily at least _wants_ to plan a future.

But before he leaves he tells her people always fuck with you and break your heart (he mumbles something that's probably about Effy, Naomi ignores this, too). She twines their fingers together as he helps her up and off the grass, trying not to think about how she's more cynical than he is (even though she doesn't even have a reason).

--

Naomi doesn't tell Emily that she knew Cook and Freddie had chlamydia when Emily is telling her all about it, saying how she's _so_ glad that they don't have to worry about stuff like that. Instead, Naomi scuffs, acting like it's new information, but also like she's not at all shocked. She makes a crack about how Freddie and Cook are probably fucking and Emily just rolls her eyes, scooting closer on the bench.

Naomi almost lets it slip that it probably isn't Cook's fault because he's just so fucked up since, well, everything. She almost tells Emily that she understands why Cook's being such a wanker these days. But she doesn't, because she can't bring herself to care enough to bring down her stack of secrets. Besides, Cook doesn't need her defense. He doesn't need anyone, and neither does she.

And soon Emily kisses the corner of her mouth and Naomi catches herself smiling widely, the wind blowing steadily around them, changing directions every few minutes, Naomi pulls Emily up, readying to go to her house and tangle their legs together, and pull Emily closer, closer, closer. Emily says when they're in Mexico they'll be completely unaware of all the lame drama going on with boys.

Naomi nods, dropping Emily hand and tucking her hair behind her ears, forcing the smile this time as she responds, "Yes."

--

Naomi tells Cook she (maybe, possibly, might, kind of) wants to attend university. He tells her she should check one out; Emily would understand; Emily would do anything for her lezzy lover. Naomi chuckles lowly, tangling her legs with Cook's as she reaches across his body, prying the can of beer out of his hands. She takes a sip, letting her eyes flutter shut.

There's heat radiating throughout the house and Naomi has an inkling that there isn't any air circulating. Cook's body is warm and sticky next to hers and she isn't sure if the heat she feels is solely from her own discomfort or if it's mixing with his. Her head is cloudy but there's a steady tick, tick, tick in the background, almost like a clock. It sounds achingly loud to her, close and quick.

(It sounds like a bomb--inevitable, destructive.)

--

She meets Sophia and it's all a blur of lights and colors and sounds and nothing is making sense anymore. She thought she wanted the freedom university offered, but there's something tugging inside of her that Naomi wants to force down. Sophia seems to understand this because there's something pleading and familiar behind her eyes that Naomi identifies with (she tries to ignore it).

Soon they're talking about things that don't matter, about nothing in particular at all, until Naomi lets it slip that she feels trapped (like there's no air in her lungs and no matter how many breaths she takes she remains empty). Sophia's eyes flutter shut momentarily and her head nods almost imperceptibly.

They hold hands; they fuck; Naomi forgets (Sophia remembers).

When they part Naomi doesn't cry even though she feels like she should. Instead she calls Cook, who shows up at her house within the hour, running his hands through her soft, matted hair, not asking questions, not saying anything. He can smell the alcohol and smoke on her breath and allows her to peel away his shirt. He lies down next to her, their bodies separated by an inch of space and tension and all the things he wants to know but doesn't ask.

She appreciates the silence, but instead she breaks it, saying, "I'm scared."

"I know, babe," he whispers.

(And the silence that follows doesn't feel so empty anymore.)

--

For the next week Naomi doesn't leave the house as guilt and regret manifest and grow, holding her to this one place (_now_, she thinks, _I'm trapping myself_). She drinks more than she should (more than usual) and doesn't do much of anything at all unless Emily comes skipping over. Then Naomi pretends.

She smiles and giggles and runs her fingers through Emily's bright hair, watching Emily's (almost) contagious smile for signs of knowledge. She puts so much effort forth that when Emily (finally) leaves (too soon) Naomi is so fucking tired that all she can do is collapse on the couch, feeling worse than before, but there's something in the background, quietly (loudly) tick, tick, ticking, and Naomi doesn't know where it's coming from, but it echoes in her head over and over and over, making everything harder.

--

Cook arrives a week after he stayed over, smiling goofily, cockily, saying he's come to get her panties out of a twist and cheer her the fuck up. She rolls her eyes expertly and crosses her arms over her chest, saying she doesn't need to be cheered up. He simply shakes his head, his grin growing wider.

Her convinces her to (begrudgingly) go to a club. The music's loud and the lights are flashing and people are dancing too closely to each other, heat coming from everywhere and anywhere. Normally, she'd have a headache; she'd wish Emily were around to hold her hand, but instead she sees Cook, bouncing on the balls of his feet, looking around at all the people. And then Naomi sees it differently, everyone dancing and hugging and kissing and touching: they're free.

Naomi grabs Cook's hand and leads him through the crowd of people, and then they're the ones dancing (and god, Naomi, _never_ dances). It's nice. She becomes so sweaty and exhilarated that she feels free, too. When they stumble out late at night (early in the morning), Cook wraps an arm around her shoulders keeping her closer to the temperature of the club. He walks her to her house, says she's a good dancer (_fuck you_, she responds, smiling), and she kisses his cheek.

She goes in by herself.

(She feels less alone.)

--

Emily thinks she's persuading Naomi to go to some club, but really, Naomi just wants to go. Emily thinks she's forcing Naomi to dress up, but Naomi really wants to look…nice. They arrive and everything's like it was the last time, except now Emily is here, holding her hand and keeping her grounded. When Cook spots them he slings his arms around both of their shoulders, forcing them to sway with him to a rhythm that doesn't fit the music. Emily rolls her eyes, squirming away, saying she's going to go get them some drinks (Cook calls his order after Emily, but Emily just pretends she didn't hear him).

Cook tells Naomi he's glad she's not fucking wallowing anymore. And then Sophia walks up, saying, "hi," and smiling at Naomi. Naomi blinks a few time, blurry memories rushing back (her skull ticks). Cook laughs, greeting Sophia happily, unaware of the way Naomi has stopped moving, shoving his arm off her shoulders.

"I want to talk to you," Sophia shouts over the music, but her words have a softness to them that makes Naomi's heart drop to her stomach. She looks around for Emily and doesn't spot her anywhere, so she grabs Cook's arm and drags him with her to the alley behind the club.

"What the fuck to do you want?" Naomi asks Sophia, her words biting harder than she intended. And Sophia looks hurt, her eyes brimming with something Naomi doesn't look hard enough to identify (she thinks she already knows what it is anyway). She glances at Cook as he saunters away a few feet, kicking at the ground, hands shoved in his pockets.

Sophia seems broken, more broken than Naomi ever would have wanted her to be (more broken than Naomi likes to think herself to be). She asks what Sophia wants (_anything you can give me_) and goes over to Cook, asking for some drugs, hoping they'll help Sophia forget (help Naomi forget).

He tells her he only has MDMA (she almost blows up at him then, wanting to shout, instead she slaps his arm) and she takes some, asking how much it fucking costs. He tells her nothing for his lezzy friends and she rolls her eyes, slapping him again (although this time it isn't so much of a slap as it is her trailing her fingers over his arm). Sophia takes the drugs, turning away from Naomi, the wetness in her eyes inescapable now (tick, tick, tick).

When they get back inside Cook leaves her to find some chick to fuck and Naomi finds Emily, who asks where she was (_in the bathroom_, is the lie Naomi tells) and hands her a drink. They sip them quietly, Emily listening to the thud of music, Naomi only hearing the ticking in her head (_maybe I'm going mental_, she thinks). And soon they're kissing, hard and sloppily, tongues tangling, hands pulling closer.

(Tick, tick, tick)

(boom.)

And then Sophia's dead, white dress pooling in red blood, Naomi looks at her and studies the formation of her body on the ground of the club. The scene burns into her memory: Emily's crying; Naomi spots Cook; she shallows some vomit that makes it way up her throat; she wonders if he's going to abandon her.

--

She talks to Cook about the whole thing with Sophia, and he tells her he's dumped the drugs (_they've got fucking nothing on us, Naomikins_). Naomi feels horrible, and she's always watching Emily, waiting for her to figure everything out, to discover all the secrets (lies) Naomi keeps hidden. Cook touches her hand and everything feels a little bit better (a minuscule amount, but still). He's trying to encourage her, to make her feel okay (_I've taken care of it, act like nothing's wrong…I'll buy you another drink…your hair is pretty longer…they can't prove shit_).

Naomi sees Thomas and tells him what she thinks about him cheating on Pandora (she doesn't speak the part about how much of a fucking hypocrite she is). Thomas beats Cook up. Naomi confesses; Naomi cries for the first time since she fucked Sophia (not for Sophia, not for herself, tears streak down her face for Cook).

(She didn't know how it happened, but somehow, somewhere along the way, Cook became her best friend.)

(The world's ending.)

--

Emily finds out.

(The world's ending.)

--

Cook goes to jail

(The world ends.)

--

Cook gets out of jail and she tells him he didn't have to take all the blame, but he says he fucking wanted to. She hugs him tightly, holding onto him like he's the only one who can keep her from combusting. He laughs loudly, saying, "I fucking missed you, too."

She buys him a drink and listens as he tells her all about prison and all the community service he has to do. She tells him Emily won't forgive her (she doesn't deserve forgiveness anyway; she doesn't deserve Emily, period.) and she's done trying (she's tired of trying). Cook says she shouldn't give up, but he buys her a drink, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

--

Emily goes to university; Naomi doesn't (the irony isn't lost on either of them).

--

Cook moves in with her, and he's so fucking messy. His clothes are strewn all over the bedroom, laced in the scent of marijuana and alcohol (but he got a job at a bar, so Naomi doesn't mention it). He hates doing dishes just as much as Naomi does, so there's always a pile in the sink (they almost resort to using paper plates, _It'd be so easy_, he says, but Naomi won't do that to all those trees). Naomi gets a job with a small group of people who work to help save people from the government and themselves. She writes pamphlets and articles and goes to rallies and fucking gets paid for it (not a lot, but enough. She doesn't get tips at all, and definitely not the kind Cook rakes in).

--

The first night Cook moved in he tried to sleep on couch, but Naomi made him sleep next to her on the bed, memories of the night she fucked Sophia were strong and impossible. But this time Cook mumbled to her while she fell asleep, scraping her scalp lightly as he ran his fingers through her hair.

(Everything will be okay).

--

Cook gets over Effy (it's about fucking time), but he never brings any girls home and Naomi appreciates it. He's always there when she needs him, and he doesn't ask questions when she doesn't want him to. Some days they fight, just bitter words from past lives echoing in the space between them. Other days they cuddle on the sofa, knees knocking and her head on his shoulder.

Naomi gets over Emily (she never thought it would happen).

--

The day she kisses Cook she realizes that she (maybe, possibly, kind of) fell in love with him. He kisses her back, dry lips tasting slightly of beer and biscuits. He looks at her afterwards, one hand resting on her neck, cheek, jaw. She breathes in deeply, running a hand up and down his arm, feeling electric and warm—cozy. She kisses him again.

They spend a week making out before they have sex. (It's more than nice.)

--

Naomi tells Cook everything (there are no secrets or lies between them, just honesty and truth). She finally (actually) understands the meaning of freedom: this is it. It's scraping her nails over Cook's back, her head cradled on his shoulder; it's his hand tugging hers down the grocery aisle, and it's coming home tired as shit and seeing that he fucking washed the dishes. It's kissing him lightly as he goes to finish his last hours of community service. Freedom is the first time she tells him she loves him and he smiles widely, laughing too loudly, saying the words back to her, whispering them in her ear over and over again.

(The world will survive.)


End file.
